


Sand and Water

by Chryse73



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 03:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13494452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chryse73/pseuds/Chryse73
Summary: Missing scene from the MA novel ‘The Sands of Time’, by Justin Richards.  Spoilers throughout.The Doctor and Tegan have rescued Nyssa from the clutches of Nephthys and all seems well, but waking from a four thousand year coma isn’t as simple as expected...





	Sand and Water

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE this novel, it’s my favourite Missing Adventure and I’ve read it so many times since I bought it back in 1996 that my copy is now falling apart. There was just one tiny thing that always bugged me about it: after all the effort and angst of chasing Nyssa across London and Egypt over four millennia, when the gang are finally reunited all we got was two tiny sentences: “Nyssa was feeling rather weak and drained, so Tegan explained what had been going on. Nyssa seemed to be taking the news with characteristic composure.” The bloody woman had been in a coma for four thousand years! I wanted more. So here it is :)
> 
> NB - quotes in italics are the words of Justin Richards, I’m just borrowing them for a little while.

**The Sands of Time - Sand and Water**

_“I have heard it said that a father should not outlive his children.”_  
_“I would not pray for your father, but for his daughter.”_  
_“No, the Doctor will stop you. He always stops people like you.”_  
_“No, please-”_

_“Doctor?”_

The new voice was muffled at first, distant and muted as if she were listening through cotton wool. It sounded tantalisingly familiar, giving rise to a longing ache in Nyssa’s chest, breaking through the dreamlike fog of her existence. She frowned, straining to hear the words, the excitement at the possibility of communication after so long stimulating her heart to wearily lurch back into action as her body began to produce adrenaline for the first time in millennia.

_“Doctor, is that you? Come on, I think she’s coming round!”_

Another burst of adrenaline joined the blood sluggishly travelling through her circulatory system; the voice was closer now, the instinctive jolt of recognition causing neurons to fire in her brain, flashes of electrical impulses jumping across long-dormant synapses and activating millions of inert dendrites into action, causing minuscule, tentative twitches in muscles that hadn’t contracted in centuries. 

_“I’m sorry, Tegan, I was busy dropping Lady Cranleigh and Mr Atkins off in their respective timezones. How is she doing?”_

A rush of air entered Nyssa’s lungs, her rib cage heaving itself to expand and fill her dusty airways with the cool, refreshing atmosphere of the TARDIS, the familiar yet incongruent scents of old books, warm metal and a subtle hint of roses creating a feedback loop of rushing adrenaline and influx of air until...

_“Doctor, look! She’s opening her eyes!”_

The sudden influx of light and overwhelming sensory information nearly sent Nyssa’s central nervous system into meltdown; she quickly closed her eyes again, retreating to the murky depths of her unconsciousness. But she had breached the surface for a fleeting moment, gained a glimpse of a world she had feared was lost to her, and there was no turning back now.

************************************************************************************************

“Nyssa, can you hear me? Are you alright?”

Tegan leaned forward from the wicker chair by her friend’s bedside, reaching out to touch Nyssa’s arm. The Doctor gently grabbed hold of her wrist, stopping her before she could make contact.

“Steady now, Tegan,” he said quietly, “We need to take this slowly. Let her come round in her own time.”

“‘Slowly?’” Tegan retorted, pulling her arm from the Time Lord’s grasp. “You have _got_ to be kidding, Doc! I’ve waited a hundred years to see if she’s ok, if that’s not slow then I don’t know-”

“Tegan!” The Doctor hissed, motioning for her to lower her voice. “Remember what we talked about in Lord Kenilworth’s drawing-room? Nyssa has been in a coma for a very, _very_ long time. And the deeper you go, the more slowly you have to return to the surface. Her metabolic rate has been so slow for so long that-”

“It’d be fatal to wake her too quickly. I know, I remember.” Tegan sighed glumly, looking down at her hands as she folded them back onto her lap. “I’m sorry. I just need to know she’s alright.”  
The Doctor put an awkward arm around her shoulders. “I know, Tegan. I need that too.”

************************************************************************************************

 _“I don’t know if you can hear, and if you can I don’t know if you’ll remember. I’m sorry it’s taking so long...”_  
_“I miss you, Nyssa. I can talk to you. I mean_ to _you, not_ at _you...”_  
_“Oh God, Nyssa, talk to me. I’m sick of what I say and how I say it. I know how everyone else feels. The Doctor listens, but only so he can disagree. Though I suppose that’s better than nothing.”_  
_“Nothing, just me. Alone. Alone in the water, trying to find the light.”_  
_“Please talk to me, Nyssa...Please...”_  
_“I’ve forgotten what your voice sounds like.”_

Nyssa frowned, contemplating the long-forgotten sound of her own voice. She was below the surface of the waves once more, but could see the light streaming through the water, could sense her pale irises contracting against the unfamiliar sensation, could feel the diffuse sunlight warming her face. 

What _did_ her voice sound like? In the mists of her coma she struggled to remember. She opened her mouth to speak, but only bubbles emerged, rising silently to break upon the surface. She wondered if, when they burst, her disembodied voice would be heard by whomever was up there, on the other side. 

************************************************************************************************

Tegan rested her head on the Doctor’s shoulder and closed her eyes, the slow, infrequent beep of the nearby heart monitor nearly lulling her to sleep. The frantic efforts of the last few days were catching up with her, the exhausting effort of chasing Nyssa across London and Egypt via numerous timezones taking its toll. Yet even now, when she had thought it was all over and her friend was safe and well, still she couldn’t relax.

“You know, I was so relieved when she woke up and spoke, just after Nephthys was destroyed. I thought we’d got her back.” Tears welled in the Australian woman’s eyes as emotions she’d fought to control over the last few days threatened to overwhelm her.

The Doctor gently patted her shoulder. “I know, Tegan, I know. But that was probably just the residual energy from the mind of Nephthys leaving her body. It was spent in those brief moments of awakening, dissipating after I sealed the Osiran’s mind in the canopic jar. I’m afraid after all those years asleep, Nyssa had no energy left to keep her conscious.”

Tegan lifted her head in alarm. “So she might never wake up?”

The Doctor pointed to a device resting on the far side of the bed next to Nyssa’s arm. It seemed, like all the Doctor’s contraptions, to consist of a number of separate devices crudely lashed together - a canister appearing to contain some sort of clear liquid was connected an electronic box with a number of flashing lights and haphazard wires protruding from it. Tubes snaked from the device, winding their way down Nyssa’s bare arm to what seemed to be a cannula in the back of her hand. “Bioengineered rehydrating nutrient solution, especially designed for Trakenites.” He flashed a smile at Tegan, who raised her eyebrow questioningly. The Doctor blushed, explaining: “After I dropped Ann and Atkins off I made a quick detour to Serenity, and got the medics there to whip me up a batch. Just the tonic for someone who’s been sleeping for four millennia.”

Tegan reached out, and hesitantly moved her hand toward Nyssa’s. The Doctor made no move to stop her this time, and she gently took her friend’s pale, dusty hand in her own. Her skin felt like centuries-old parchment. “I hope you’re right,” she sighed.

“Braveheart, Tegan,” the Doctor whispered. “Braveheart.”

************************************************************************************************

_“Cross my heart.”  
“Cross my heart and hope to die...”_

Nyssa’s feet were mired in the sandy sea bed, the sunlight above her tantalisingly close as it refracted through through the shallow water. She tried to step up, to release her feet, but it was like trying to scale an hourglass. The sand sucked at her, unwilling to release its malign grip. 

She could sense shadows on the surface now, interspersed with inexplicably familiar colours of red, white and gold, broken and distorted by the relentless waves, so near but agonisingly out of reach. She opened her mouth to release a cry, but all that emerged was a sparkling stream of bubbles. Nyssa desperately reached out her hand to try to hold on to her last breath as it escaped from her body, but the pockets of precious air dodged and weaved through her fingers like the sand to which she was condemned to return, sucking her down, down... as darkness began to creep around the edges of her vision... until...

_“Braveheart, Tegan. Braveheart...”_

Then suddenly there was a hand in hers, a shockingly unfamiliar sensation of physical contact against her parched skin. It tightened its grip, pulling her free of the sand below and before she knew it the entrancing light above was growing larger and brighter in her vision, closer and closer until she broke the surface, emerging into the blinding sunlight above...

************************************************************************************************

“Nyssa!”

Tegan gasped, jumping up from her chair as her friend suddenly drew a deep, rasping breath, her back arching from the bed with the effort as her eyes snapped open. The nearby heart monitor leapt into life, emitting a frantic flurry of beeps. 

“Nyssa - are you ok? Can you hear me? It’s me - Tegan!”

“Steady, now.” The Doctor put a hand on her shoulder. “Give her a moment.”

The Trakenite girl’s breathing slowly settled, her pale green eyes wandering blindly at first until she managed to focus on her surroundings, before finally settling on the anxious pair sat next to her bed. She blinked, her brow furrowing questioningly.

“Hello again, Nyssa,” said the Doctor, relief evident in his youthful voice, “It’s good to have you back.”

Nyssa licked her lips and opened her mouth to speak, but all that emerged was a dry rasp.

Tegan quickly picked up a glass from the bedside table and filled it with water. “Here,” she said, putting it to Nyssa’s lips - “you must be thirsty.”

“Just a few sips,” the Doctor cautioned gently, “her stomach isn’t used to it.”

Nyssa drank briefly, savouring the sensation of the cool liquid on her tongue before her head sank wearily back onto the pillow, her eyes fixed on her friends in bewilderment.

“How are you feeling, Nyssa?” The Doctor leaned over her, his face concerned.

“Exhausted,” she whispered hoarsely. “What happened? I’ve had the strangest dream...”

Tegan stroked her hand gently. “You were kidnapped, Nyssa - remember? At the British Museum? And we tried so hard to find you, but we... well, we just couldn’t...” she tailed off as her eyes filled with tears. The Doctor put a hand on her shoulder.

“We managed to find you the next day. But unbeknown to us, your captors had sent you back in time, to be used as a host for the mind of the exiled Osiran, Nephthys. I’m afraid you’ve been in a metabolic coma ever since.”

“Nephthys...” whispered Nyssa, thinking back to her dream. “I remember... a presence, dark and brooding. It wanted...” she frowned, closing her eyes, reluctant to voice the memories resurfacing in her mind.

“Wanted what?” Tegan asked.

“Destruction,” finished the Doctor. “Nephthys and her husband, Sutekh, were intent on nothing more than the obliteration of all life in the universe. I had stopped Sutekh once before, and that was hard enough. Nephthys, if resurrected, would have been much, much worse.”

“But she’s gone now?” Nyssa asked, “You stopped her?”

“Yes, Nyssa. You’re free of it.”

The Trakenite closed her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. Then she frowned, something the Doctor had said resurfacing in her mind. “How long was I asleep?”

The Doctor looked at Tegan, giving her a warning glance. “Rest now, Nyssa. You need to regain your strength. We’ll talk more in the morning.” He got up from his chair, motioning for Tegan to do the same. 

Nyssa tried to reach out a hand to stop him, but was shocked to find that she lacked the strength to raise it more than a few centimetres from the bed. She looked back at the Time Lord, her eyes wide.

_“How long?”_

The Doctor sighed, slumping back into his seat. After all the time he had spent travelling with Nyssa after they had inadvertently left Tegan at Heathrow, he knew how futile it was to try and keep something from her. He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath. “Around four thousand years.”

The heart monitor kicked up a gear; the Doctor’s eyes flicked to it warily as warning lights began to flash on its display. 

“Alright, alright,” soothed Tegan, instinctively slipping into air stewardess mode, “Let’s try and stay calm. The Doctor says you’re going to be fine, Nyssa.”

 _“‘Four thousand years?’”_ Nyssa slowly raised her hands to her face, feeling the dry skin on her cheeks. “Am I... how _old_ do I look?”

“You look fine,” reassured Tegan, “not a day older - not even a single grey hair!” 

“The depth of your coma has meant very limited ageing, Nyssa. Plus I suspect the Osirans were expending some energy to keep Nephthys’ host alive and well, as they did with Rassul. It will take a bit of time to regain your full strength, but you should feel no lasting after-effects,” the Doctor explained.

“Too right,” agreed Tegan. “A long hot bath and a good dollop of moisturiser and you’ll be right in no time!”

Nyssa groaned softly, and looked at her hands. “Four thousand years...” she croaked, “It’s no wonder I feel so weak... I’ve been exsiccated.”

“We tried so hard to save you, Nyssa,” Tegan said, tears welling in her eyes, “We were there, when they... at the funeral ceremony. We were so close, but we just couldn’t get to you - there were too many people. And then the Doctor said-”

“Blinovitch, by any chance?” Nyssa asked.

The Doctor looked down at his hands, chagrined once again by the limitations Time imposed on him, fettering his ability to keep his companions from harm. “I’m sorry, Nyssa. The fact was that we’d already found you in 1896, alive and... well, alive at any rate... and the Limitation Principle took effect. If we’d tried to change events, we risked losing you altogether, and... well, neither of us were willing to take that chance. If there was anything I could have done-”

“It’s alright, Doctor. I understand,” Nyssa whispered. Her thoughts drifted to Adric, and how the Doctor had said much the same thing when they had lost him, despite Tegan’s protestations. She wondered what arguments had raged between the two of them this time - ironically exacerbated by her absence as peacemaker - and she was almost glad to have missed it. She could see some of the lingering pain in the Doctor’s face, lines etched by regrets that could never be erased, and felt sorrow of her own that she had added to them. 

“I’m not sure _I_ understand!” Tegan cried. “Bloomin’ Blinovitch... if I ever meet that guy, I swear-”

“Tegan, believe me, I have half a mind to introduce you to him, so someone else can be on the receiving end of your anger for a change!” The Doctor got to his feet and winked at Nyssa, and was relieved to be rewarded by a brief smile. 

Tegan was in a less forgiving mood. “Of all the cheek! I’ve got a good mind to-”

“Can you not argue?” Nyssa interjected quietly - “Not now, please. I know I’ve just had four thousand years of peace and quiet, but can we keep it that way for a little longer? Please?”

Tegan looked at the Doctor, shrugging her shoulders. “Well, I guess she’s the boss.” 

The Doctor looked confused. “Tegan?”

“Well, she _is_ older than you!”

Shaking his head ruefully, the Doctor turned back to Nyssa, to find she had drifted back to sleep; the heart monitor registered a slow but steady rhythm, thankfully almost back to normal. He watched her for a moment, her chest rising and falling as she slumbered peacefully. She would fully recover from this, he knew - after everything she had been through Nyssa was nothing if not resilient, and time was a great healer. Whether _he_ would fully recover was another matter. Another companion nearly lost to him, when the pain of Adric’s death was still all too fresh in his memory. It would not - _could_ not - happen again, he resolved.

“Come on Tegan,” the Doctor whispered softly, moving toward the door, “let’s leave her in peace.”

Tegan curled her legs under her, settling into the wicker chair. “I’m going to stay here for a while. Just in case she needs anything.” She yawned, her own exhaustion catching up with her.

The Doctor paused at the door, looking back at the two of them. “She’s not going anywhere, you know.”

“I know,” said Tegan sleepily, closing her eyes. “I just... want to make sure.”

The Time Lord smiled; “Sweet dreams,” he said softly, before gently closing the door.


End file.
